


interpersonal tactics

by EmpiricBias



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, I wrote this in 2014 and it is very short. thank you, Other, tfw you make eye contact with your future partner in a crowded arena and you don't even know it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpiricBias/pseuds/EmpiricBias
Summary: One of the men in particular caught her eye. Confident in the shadows thrown by her hood, Robin stared, intrigued.The man carried a blade, but his tunic was particularly long. A mage? No, too built - a swordsman, more likely. The Feroxi did not revere magic nearly as zealously as they did the blade.
Relationships: Lon'qu/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Kudos: 1





	interpersonal tactics

The coliseum was impressive, as Robin expected.

As Chrom directed the Shepherds into formation, she marveled at the architecture from under the safety of her hood. What the seat of Regna Ferox lacked in intricate finery it more than made up for in sheer, stone-cut grandeur; the walls themselves were built of monoliths nearly more boulder than enormous brick, rough-hewn to withstand the climate and culture signature to that of the Feroxi. 

Above them, in the arena's raised gallery (another impressive feat of masonry), the audience had already made themselves comfortable. The Shepherds had been ushered onto the field on a drumroll and a wave of thunderous cheers. The noise had since died down to a constant, undulating murmur.

The atmosphere differed from their usual ordeal - a crowd where there would have been empty fields, noncombatants exchanging money where they would (preferably) have fled the scene hours back - but at least tonight, she wouldn't have to worry about any real casualties. For once the path to the desired end was not measured in broken bodies.

She returned her attention to the Shepherds, palms itching with anticipation - and snorted. Vaike, at least, seemed to be doing just fine with the extra attention that the arena afforded. Virion didn't seem to mind it either, though he was obviously making an attempt at composure. Miriel made a point of ignoring them both. Chrom was either lost in thought, or listening very intently to some impromptu counsel from Frederick. One could never tell with that man.

Robin raised her eyes to the gallery.

Khan Flavia hadn't moved from her seat since she'd arrived. The only change in her stance had been a few minutes back when she uncrossed her arms to lean against the banister, the better to watch the Shepherds below. Robin wanted to believe, as someone also familiar with the architecture of battles, that she understood: when victory was not guaranteed, even hope seemed a distraction. It felt better to busy oneself by focusing on inane details. The state of the soldiers, the allotment of weapons, the position of troops. Flavia been watching the Shepherds with a hawk's eye ever since they'd stepped foot on the coliseum grounds. Robin hoped that the fact that Chrom did not exhibit this behavior now meant that he was more confident in his troops than their host.

The East-Khan's gaze was elsewhere now, though. Robin let her eyes wander the perimeter of the gallery, until eventually she found what Flavia was looking at: none other than the West-Khan, Khan Basilio, a large man in warrior garb with an evidently even larger personality. The latter characteristic coupled with the respect that shone in the eyes of those around him completely gave the reigning Khan away.

One of the men in particular caught her eye. Confident in the shadows thrown by her hood, Robin stared, intrigued.

The man carried a weapon, but his tunic was particularly long. A mage? No, too built - a swordsman, more likely. The Feroxi did not revere magic nearly as zealously as they did the blade. But Basilio regarded the man too casually, too fondly, for the man to be simple hired muscle. Robin considered this, then immediately reconsidered: maybe that familiarity was the West-Khan's kindness. (It certainly had been Chrom's kindness to Robin.) Perhaps the man was really just a mercenary. From what she had heard, Ferox had no shortage of gold in the royal coffers and many an enemy to keep off their lands - it would certainly be in their interests to retain any skilled swordsmen that wandered through. Even more in their interests to be gracious.

The Khans caught sight of each other and proceeded to have a conversation across the distance of the entire coliseum floor using nothing but hand gestures. The swordsman with the long tunic stepped back to allow the exchange, effectively removing him from Robin's sight.

Robin lowered her gaze. After this battle, the Shepherds could return to Ylisstol, where Chrom had promised it would be easier to find more books. There was still too much she didn't know, both about the halidom she served and the nations it called neighbors; perhaps the Ylissean Council could be convinced, if they succeeded in this campaign, to let her access the royal library. As Chrom's tactician she was certain she could ask for at least that much -

There was a roll of percussion, followed shortly by a roar from the crowd - even louder than the one that had greeted the Shepherds' arrival.

Finally.

Casting a final glance over the field, she turned to join her comrades.

In theory, the plan was simple: if Marth had usurped the former champion as recently as Khan Flavia claimed, it meant that his teammates would not yet be used to fighting alongside him. Chrom could exploit that weakness once she and Miriel eliminated the enemy mages and Virion picked off the stragglers behind Vaike's brute offense. Frederick would hold the rear, leaving Chrom with ample opportunity to duel Marth one-on-one. Simple.

Of the tomes in her pockets Robin selected the one with the softest spine, opening it to mark the next usable page. It was the last of the books she'd had on her person when Chrom recruited her; one of the few things she was certain she had known longer she'd known herself. Now, it was nearing its inevitable expiration. Better to let it go memorably than leave it to gather dust, without purpose.

"Robin." Chrom appeared at her side from apparently nowhere. Silently, she chastised herself. Now was not the time to be sentimental.

Focus.

"Right," she replied, nodding once. The prince smiled, clasping her shoulder briefly before taking his place at the front line - as the battle loomed imminent she could see he was already falling naturally into the role of Captain, donning the rank as easily as if stepping into a pair of well-worn boots.

Robin smiled. The architecture of Regna Ferox was impressive, but Chrom leading the Shepherds was always a sight to behold.

The prince put his arm in the air. The Shepherds watched as one as a procession of foes filed into the other end of the arena. At the very back of the opposing formation was the champion: brilliant blue robes, a dark mask, a borrowed name.

The battle, as straightforward as she predicted it would be, turned out to be a long one nevertheless. By the time the two Falchions finally met, the swordsman in the gallery had all but slipped from Robin's mind.

* * *

He wasn't a mercenary after all.

Khan Basilio introduced him as a present, celebrating the Shepherds' victory and strength - a sentiment that Chrom chose to take in stride - but he was honestly better met as the former Champion of Regna Ferox, Lon'qu. Frederick the Wary wasted no time appraising him from head to toe, doing a poor job of hiding it - but Robin simply regarded him politely. If he was to be a Shepherd, what really mattered was his swordsmanship, and there would be time later to assess that ability.

Lon'qu pointedly avoided her gaze, staring straight ahead at Chrom - or perhaps the wall behind him. Maybe he'd caught her staring at him before the battle, Robin realized. Well, that certainly left room for miscommunication.

Funnily enough, Lissa was completely enamored by him. Considering her effusive enthusiasm toward Marth, however, it wasn't all that surprising. At least with this one she actually had a chance at making conversation -

"Get back!"

\- well, never mind.

Robin only started at the sound of his voice, blindsided by a baritone on par with Khan Basilio's coming out of the significantly leaner man - but Lissa all but actually jumped, temporarily shaken from her admiration for their newest recruit out of simple fright. On the other hand, Lon'qu looked almost as stricken as Lissa herself, if not more. Chrom, ever the vigilant brother, shot him a look halfway between alarm and confusion, then turned that look on Basilio. Basilio broke into laughter.

"Wh- what did I say?" Lissa asked, wide-eyed; warily, Robin drew her away by the elbow before the situation could devolve further. Her caution turned out to be unnecessary.

"Let's just say ladies tend to put Lon'qu on edge," Khan Basilio guffawed, clamping what was probably supposed to be a reassuring hand on Lon'qu's shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. Lon'qu grimaced, his mouth a tensed line against the flush rising on his face; to say he looked uncomfortable would have been putting it lightly. Oblivious to or purposefully ignoring his ex-champion's plight, Basilio simply plowed on. "Nonetheless, he's capable. Perhaps he even has the makings of a khan."

Lon'qu's expression now was of someone who had heard a sentiment too many times for it to be effective, though his eyes briefly flickered in the Khan's direction.

Khan Basilio released his shoulder with a fatherly pat - a stark contrast to the brusqueness he'd subjected him to moments back - and spread his hands toward Chrom in a gesture of goodwill. "Consider him West Ferox's contribution to the Ylissean cause."

"You're certain about this?" Chrom asked, only a beat too hesitant. The Shepherds were not strictly Ylisse's; they were closer to the prince's own personal militia, and Chrom had little care for the use of persons as political declarations of intent. But as an emissary of Ylisse he would be hard pressed to reject Basilio's offer. 

Well; if they had to, the Shepherds could certainly figure it out. They'd done it for Robin, and she recalled she'd had no endorsement at all but the clothes on her back. Surely this would be easier.

The Khan dismissed Chrom's concern with a careless wave of his hand. "Yes, yes," he said. "He's your man now. Alright?"

"And Lon'qu? You have no objections?"

If he did, Lon'qu did not care to voice them. "He gives orders. I stab people. I think our roles are clear." His words were measured, but there was a lilt to them that was interesting - probably as interesting as Robin's own accent, which no one she had met had been able to place. She itched to find someone who could; it was another thing among the many things she wished she could learn from a book, like the vast swaths of Ylissean culture and history that were still completely lost on her after all these weeks.

Abruptly, Robin recalled that a few hours earlier she had been determined to ask for library privileges back in Ylisstol.

She saw Chrom crack a smile that was too wry to be anything but genuine. "Alright then," he relented. "Welcome aboard."

Lon'qu, this time, simply inclined his head in response.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old, old, old fic that I originally posted to ffnet. I had to log into my old account to grab it; I recently found the drafts for the rest of the story. I have very lightly edited (+100 ish words) what I wrote in 2014.
> 
> Maybe I'll get around to writing more, but for now I just wanted this chapter here.


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